


ayup, ghosts!

by itisjosh



Series: ok maybe ghosts exist [10]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: "ghost hunter"!wilbur, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Idiots, No Angst, ghost hunter!jack manifold, jack manifold is the worst ghost hunting partner there is, theyre fucking stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: Today is the day that Wilbur has decided that he will be committing mass amounts of war crimes."I don't want to sit around and have a nice little chat with a nice ghost. I want to be brutally fucking murdered, Will.""No. We're not going to go and fuck around and try to get a ghost to kill us. That's against the terms of service, Jack Manifold. I'm thinking about my Twitch account here, Jack. Come on, now."
Relationships: Jack Manifold & Wilbur Soot
Series: ok maybe ghosts exist [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983292
Comments: 30
Kudos: 451





	ayup, ghosts!

Today is the day that Wilbur has decided that he will be committing mass amounts of war crimes. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he listens to his sudden, impromptu ghost hunting partner continuously talking, refusing to shut the fuck up. Techno told him to fuck off, and so Wilbur fucked off, but he didn't want to go into some creepy looking manor _alone_ , so he called one of the few people who he figured would actually say yes, and the one person he called did. Jack Manifold did indeed say yes, he agreed to come with him, but Wilbur regrets that choice so fucking much now. Jack rambles on and on about something that Wilbur could quite honestly give zero shits about, throwing his hands around and making grand gestures with his arms as he continues to talk. Wilbur closes his eyes once more, trying his best to tune out Jack's voice, but with no avail. 

Even the spirit box isn't loud enough to tune him out, and if the fucking _spirit box_ isn't loud enough to drown him out, than nothing will be enough to drown him out. Wilbur leans back on his heels, rocking himself back and forth on his feet, opening his eyes a second later. He looks ahead of him, watching the paintings on the walls stare back at him. Apparently, there were about thirty murders committed in this place about ten years ago. The owner buried all of the bodies under the floorboards, using her home as a makeshift graveyard, and she was never convicted until her death, when her daughter was renovating. _Apparently_ , there are supposed to be at _least_ three demons here, and Wilbur's positive that he's going to run into at least one of them. He really does seem to have a ghost magnet glued to his back. 

"Anyways, like I was saying," Jack continues, gripping Wilbur's shoulder. His grip is unbelievably tight, and Wilbur feels like he's being forced to stand in that one spot, given how Jack doesn't seem like he plans on letting go. Wilbur sighs, shifting on his feet a little as he tries his best to listen to the spirit box. "I'm getting kind of sick and tired of being in this dusty old place, y'know?" Jack laughs, his voice loud and booming. "I think we should burn this place down. What d'ya say, Will? Wanna-"

Wilbur sighs, tilting his head back. 

_"Burn?"_ A voice asks through the spirit box. Wilbur looks back at the spirit box a second later, a grin splitting across his face. Fucking finally, they finally get a ghost. _"Burn..?"_ The voice asks again, sounding tired, sounding wary. 

"Ayup, Will!" Jack grins, shoving him to the side. Wilbur stumbles on his feet, narrowing his eyes sharply at the man by his side. Wilbur is going to fucking beat him to death, he promises that to himself. Wilbur is _definitely_ going to beat him to death if it's the last thing he does. Not like it matters, he thinks to himself, slightly bitter. Everyone in his life is dead already, and that doesn't stop them from talking to him. "Ghost's talkin' to us 'nd shit!" Jack beams, his eyes sparkling a little, crinkling at the sides. "What's he saying?"

"He repeated the word burn a few times," Wilbur murmurs. "My name is Wilbur Soot, this is J-"

"Jack Manifold!" Jack shouts, way too closely to Wilbur's ear. He flinches back, his hand flying up to cup the side of his head, wincing at the pain and ringing that follows a few seconds later. "Burn? Burn! You know what burn sounds pretty close to, Will?" Jack grins at him, looking excited and full of energy. Wilbur sighs, his chest heaving, his shoulders slouching. He really, really, _really_ does not want to know what Jack thinks the word burn is similar to. In fact, Wilbur really does not want to hear Jack talk anymore, all things considered. With Techno, at least _he_ could be the annoying one, and now the tables have been turned, and he absolutely hates it. "Boobs."

"No."

Jack laughs, throwing his head back and cackling like a goddamn madman, looking like he's about to piss himself laughing. Wilbur, quite honestly, would not be surprised if he did. It would not surprise him in the slightest, and he's actually shocked that Jack hasn't done that yet. Jack keels over, clutching at his stomach as he gasps for air, laughing so hard that Wilbur briefly thinks he may or may not actually die. " _Boobs._ " 

There's a part of Wilbur that wants to punch him in the face, but there's also a part of Wilbur, a slightly bigger part of him, that really, really wants to join in on this bullshittery. He's supposed to be a professional ghost hunter, he's supposed to be good at streaming his ghost hunting adventures, but Jack makes it _so_ goddamn hard to do anything properly. He shifts a little, breathing out, wrinkling his nose when he sees dust flutter around him, catching in the godrays that litter the area around them. 

"Hot," Wilbur gives Jack a grin and a half-shrug, giving in to the temptation of fucking around. "You know, this ghost do be kinda cute though," Wilbur grins even more, leaning a little closer to his impromptu ghost hunting partner. Jack's eyes sparkle, his grin doubles in size, and he looks like he's just heard the best words in his entire life. "I'd smash." 

"I thought we were married," Jack frowns. "Wilbur infidelity arc?" Jack scowls at him, crossing his arms firmly against his chest. "Fuck that, I don't want you anymore. The ghosts can have you, asshole. Fucking tory."

Wilbur rolls his eyes, grinning a bit. He leans back on his heels, shifting his camera in his hands. "Yeah, yeah. Call me a tory just 'cause I've decided to raise my standards, alright. Okay. We need to talk to the ghost, now. They're probably fucking terrified of us," he laughs, ducking his head a second later. "Okay. Okay, let's ask some questions. I'm Wilbur, this is Jack. Can you say our names back to us?" Wilbur asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or could you maybe tell us your name?" 

There's a long silence, only punctured by Jack's sudden groan. He sounds like he's being murdered, and for a brief second, Wilbur wishes that he _was_ being murdered. Though he knows that he shouldn't wish death upon his friends, he really can't help it. Jack just makes it so fucking easy, he really does. 

"This is boring as fuck, Will. I'm sick and tired of doing this. I want to be hunted down by, like, a fuckin' phantom, or something. I don't want to sit around and have a nice little chat with a _nice_ little ghost. I want to be brutally fucking murdered, Will." Wilbur sighs, pressing his fingers to the sides of his head. 

"You are so fucking annoying," Wilbur decides. "No. We're not going to go and fuck around and try to get a ghost to kill us. That's against the terms of service, Jack Manifold. I'm thinking about my Twitch account here, Jack. Come on, now." Jack sighs, dramatic as ever. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you got killed on camera, though, it'd be cool as fuck. You know how much content I could get out of that?" Jack grins. "I could get so much content out of that, Will. I'd milk your death for all it was worth. I would one hundred percent milk your death for as long as I could. Maybe we could hide the body before it was picked up on camera, you know?" 

Wilbur sighs. "There would be clips of my dead body everywhere, Jack. I'm not going to deal with that in the afterlife." 

"You are boring," Jack tells him, as if it were a fact. "So boring. Extremely boring. If you died on camera, I could finally promote _my_ channel. Which, speaking of, is-"

"Shut the fuck up," Wilbur counters, narrowing his eyes at his partner. "Die," he suggests. And then, a few seconds later, "off camera."

Jack grins, leaning back on his heels, looking smug and cocky, just like he always does. "Kinky. Now," he beams, narrowing his eyes. "I'm about to go hunt some goddamn ghosts," he moves away from Wilbur, grabbing his torch, as well as the stupid fucking crucifix he stole on the way here. "Maybe I'll even get a ghost girl out of this. Who knows!" Jack beams, throwing out his arms as he walks backwards. "Bye bye, Will!" 

And then he's off running up the stairs, laughing like a fucking idiot. 

Per usual. 

Wilbur sighs again, rubbing his head. _"Annoying. Annoying as fuck."_ A voice rings out from the spirit box, and Wilbur really can't help but grin. 

"Agreed," he says, smiling a little as he watches his friend race up the stairs. "So fucking agreed."


End file.
